April Fools Day
by r4ven3
Summary: Another one shot for the weekend. Set early-ish in S10, Ruth has an attitude which requires adjustment. Will she sense. or will she stick to her guns?


The Grid – 10.06 am, Friday April 1, 2011:

Head bent, pen in hand, Ruth pores over the notes she'd made during the meeting, so she doesn't doesn't register Harry's approach until he's right beside her desk.

"That electronic tablet you have under that pile of paper is meant to simplify note-taking, and is especially designed to facilitate the sharing of information between team members," he says, his tone droll.

Ruth lifts her eyes to him. Any normal person would have said, `Why the paper, when you have a tablet?', but not Harry. Why use a few words when you can reconstruct the English language using your own version of cut and paste?

Ruth has only a sketchy idea as to why her private musings about him are always a tad on the negative side. While she pretends cooperation, politeness, and even friendliness, she is irritated with Harry because despite continually offering him the cold shoulder, it appears he still loves her. Only a fool, or one of weak mind, would persist against such clear opposition.

"I .. like writing things down … with a pen," she says lamely. "Besides, I notice you never use the tablet you've been assigned."

He utters a sound somewhere between a grunt and an hurrumph, which she interprets as: _I __do believe that's checkmate_. "I hate the bloody thing," he grumbles. "It's always out of juice."

"You're meant to charge it."

"I need a secretary for that kind of thing." He lifts his eyebrows, perhaps hopefully.

Ruth sits back in her chair, all the better to give him direct eye contact. "Don't look at me. I'm continually snowed under."

Harry's shoulders slump and his face softens. "I didn't mean that you should do it, Ruth, and I am aware of your impossible work load." He glances around the Grid to where only Calum and Dimitri are at their desks. In the technology suite Tariq Masood is tutoring Reuben, his new apprentice. "What do you think of him?" Harry asks at last, his eyes still on the two young technicians.

"Reuben?" When Harry nods, she continues. "I hardly know him, but he seems .. promising. I can't yet say for sure. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious. You're generally a good judge of character."

"Not always."

Harry gazes at her as if expecting clarification. It's unlike him to be making small talk, and small talk is what she's been hearing from him. If his past behaviour is anything to go by, then he's up to something.

"I ..." he begins, and Ruth can feel his discomfort as he looks everywhere but directly at her. "I've … decided to meet with Guy Blasko ... today."

Ruth can't believe what she's hearing. "But Harry, everyone at the team meeting warned you against meeting him. He's more … gangster than businessman."

"I know that, but I pose no threat to him or to his .. operation, so -"

"_Operation_? You make it sound like he's running a poultry farm. He's not safe, Harry. A lot of people around him have mysteriously disappeared."

"I know, which is why I need to meet with him. I need him to know that I won't be intimidated."

"You're playing with fire."

"I know that too."

Ruth sighs heavily. She can continue to plead with him, but she knows that once Harry's mind is made up it generally remains that way.

"What time are you meeting him?" Ruth has decided to go along with the idea, because opposing Harry rarely works.

"Two o'clock. Isle of Dogs. I've requested we meet on the Blue Bridge. It's more open, and I can position Dimitri and Calum where they can keep a close eye on us."

While that sounds all very well, Ruth is well aware that all may not go as planned for Harry when he meets Blasko – businessman, and major criminal, although in Ruth's mind the two terms are generally interchangeable.

Harry turns as if to leave, but then turns back to Ruth, placing one finger on her desk. "I'll not be wearing a microphone, but Calum has offered to film the meeting, and stream it to Tariq's computer. Perhaps you could … join Tariq and Reuben while they monitor the video footage … if you want, and if ... you're not too busy."

Of course she's too busy, but she needs to observe this meeting, and while she'd rather listen in, watching Harry's meeting with Blasko sounds like a reasonable option. She nods slowly. "So, if he shoots you, I'll bear witness to you taking your last breath on this earth," she says, not sure what part of her brain had come up with that particular sentiment.

"Suit yourself, Ruth," Harry says, turning away from her before quickly crossing the floor to his office.

"Good one, Evershed. You handled that with a level of diplomacy I can only dream of," comments Dimitri from behind her. Ruth turns to glare at him, and he quickly breaks eye contact before he turns back to his keyboard.

Ruth watches while Harry sits in his chair before picking up his desk phone receiver to make a call. She wills him to look her way, but he doesn't. She sighs heavily. She hates it when she and Harry have words, and she hates it more when it's her fault. When her emotions are in turmoil her best strategy is to work. Mentally she pulls down the shutters on the last ten minutes, and continues where she'd left off before Harry had interrupted.

* * *

The Grid – 2.12 pm:

"Harry should have worn a grey suit," Ruth finds herself saying aloud.

"What's wrong with black?" Tariq turns towards where she stands, a little away from his work station. She doesn't wish to appear too eager, or too interested in the outcome of Harry's meeting with Guy Blasko, but perhaps she's already said too much.

"He looks like he's attending a funeral," she says at last, knowing Tariq will follow her train of thought.

"But he's wearing that red tie," Reuben says, entering the suite, a cup of coffee in one hand. He stands beside Ruth, pointing towards the screen. "Red is a power symbol," he says bluntly.

"It's also a sex symbol," Tariq quips, smiling towards Reuben, "like Harry.

_Beam me up, Scotty!_

"That's a little weird, T," Reuben replies, offering Tariq a worried glance.

"I agree," Ruth says quietly. She rather likes Reuben, but she suspects her affection for him is in part because he reminds her of one of their own, lost before his life had properly begun. Reuben has the sad and soulful brown eyes of Danny Hunter, along with his gentle nature. Hopefully he'll never have reason to enter the field, only to meet his death before he's lived the full and rich life he deserves.

"I rather think black suits Harry," Reuben adds. "It gives him gravitas."

Tariq turns to look at Ruth, rolling his eyes. "It'll take more than gravitas to match Blasko." He turns back to his monitor, where Harry stands with his hands stuffed into his trousers' pockets, the image of confident calm, like he's catching up with an old friend. Blasko is broad-shouldered, and at least a head taller than Harry. "Wouldn't you love to know what they're talking about?" Tariq asks.

Ruth is not about to admit that she's desperate to know what the two men on the screen are discussing. She ignores Tariq, her eyes on the monitor. Feeling a sudden movement from Reuben, accompanied by a quietly spoken expletive, she turns to see he's spilled coffee on the floor beside Tariq's desk. She watches while he pulls a handful of tissues from a box on the adjacent desk, barely registering the stillness in Tariq.

"Guys," Tariq says at last, his tone alone enough to draw her attention back to him, "something's going down."

With his words, Ruth turns her eyes to the screen, where both Blasko and Harry appear to have fallen. Ruth's immediate reaction is one of horror. She feels her stomach contract into a tight ball, and her automatic reaction is to stand statue still. She can't take her eyes from the image on the screen, but when Harry gets to his knees, she takes a deep breath before letting it out in a heavy sigh.

"Blasko was shot," Tariq continues. "Two shots to the chest. I don't know about Harry, but he appears unharmed. There's blood on his shirt and hands, but that could be -"

"- Blasko's," Ruth finishes for him. Her eyes follow everything Harry does, from checking Blasko's heartbeat, to ripping open the front of the other man's shirt.

"Trust me to miss all the action," Reuben says from behind her. "Anyone hurt?"

"Only Blasko at this stage," Tariq replies, his eyes never leaving the screen. Meanwhile Ruth has stepped away, and is making a call. "Perhaps it's best to wait before calling Harry," he says, quickly glancing at Ruth.

"Calum?" Ruth says once her call is answered, "Please tell me what's happening."

"I'm seeing the very same video feed as you, Ruth," Calum says curtly. "Harry appears fine, but it looks grim for Blasko. Dimitri has called an ambulance. That's all I can tell you." Then he ends the call.

Ruth slides her phone back into the pocket of her jacket. "Calum and Dimitri appear to have it all under control," she says, hoping Calum wasn't merely humouring her.

What has surprised her, even shocked her, has been her response to the possibility of Harry being shot. Had he been shot she would have been devastated, but now that he appears safe, she's annoyed with him, and that makes little sense, even to her.

* * *

The Grid – 3.57 pm:

By the time Dimitri and Calum return to the Grid, Ruth has worked up a head of anger. When Calum stops by her desk on the way to his own, she has to clench her teeth so she'll not take out her ire on him.

"I thought you might want to know about Harry," he says.

"What about him?"

"He accompanied … the body .. in the ambulance, and from there he has to answer a few questions."

"From whom?"

"The guy asking for him was my old boss from Six."

"Why would Six be interested in Blasko?"

Calum steps back, and lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I don't have all the details, Ruth. I just thought you might want to know why Harry isn't back yet."

"I don't care when Harry gets back." She hears the petulance in her own voice, as Calum quickly returns to his own desk. She takes a deep breath to steady herself, but the irritation is still there, bubbling away inside her gut, a volcano threatening to erupt.

Why is she so mad at Harry? To answer that question she'd have to dig deep within herself, and she's not yet ready for that.

* * *

The Grid – 9.52 pm:

She can't wait any longer. She's not even sure she wants to see Harry, let alone speak with him. She gathers her coat and scarf, slinging on both before she grabs her bag from beneath her desk. She reaches the Grid doors just as Harry walks through them. She stops, her anger dissipating at the sight of him – bedraggled, loosened tie, his jacket crumpled and a little grubby down the front. Two large dark patches on his shirt appear to be dried blood.

"Sorry," he says wearily, "it's been one hell of a day." he steps closer to her, and she feels her resolve weakening, although not abandoning her altogether.

"Would you join me for a drink? In my office," he adds, pointing towards his office door.

As curious as she is about the afternoon's events, she can't allow her softer side - the side that still cares about Harry – to lead her to letting down her guard. She just can't. She is still angry with him, and she believes her anger is justified.

She shakes her head. "I have so much to do at home, and if I don't leave now, I'll miss my bus."

She glances up to see Harry's face fall, disappointment clouding his eyes. "I can drop you home, Ruth," he says quietly, and she knows him well enough to recognise the resignation in his voice. He _expects_ her to push him away. He is expecting her to say: _No, Harry. That's a very bad idea._

Well, that's what he gets for putting his own life in danger. While sitting on the bus as it trundles through the streets, Ruth imagines that the rhythmic movement of the bus as it speeds up then slows down is a fit accompaniment to her thoughts; thoughts which tell her that keeping Harry at a safe distance is the best, the safest thing to do, not just for her, but for them both. He will thank her in the end. He just needs a little time to reach the same conclusion.

That night she drifts off to sleep knowing that she has made the right decision. It may not be love which keeps her warm, but the smug self-righteousness she wraps around herself forms a tight and secure blanket, and she sleeps long, and deeply.

* * *

During the week following, and much of the week after Ruth is occupied with her normal tasks, and her interactions with Harry are few and brief. In team meetings she sits near him, but not next to him, and yet no-one comments about this, not even Harry. By the second Thursday following the death of Guy Blasko Ruth has convinced herself that her sacrifice of a possible future with Harry has been for the best … for everyone, but mostly for Harry and herself. She knows she is right. She _must_ be right.

In her moments of solitude, between meeting with one colleague or another, she experiences stabs of doubt. Watching Harry as he sits at his desk, a frown furrowing his brow while he conducts a phone conversation with some politician or other, Ruth still has moments when she would like to go to him and offer him a shoulder massage or a back rub, anything to smooth his brow, to take away the worries that seem to forever plague him.

There have been moments – although not many – when she'd been about to get up from her desk and hurry towards Harry's office, sure he would welcome her company, or just a chat. Such moments have been few, and each time she has resisted that urge, the urge to comfort a colleague, while barely acknowledging that Harry is more than just a colleague.

* * *

The Grid – Thursday afternoon, April 14, 2011:

"Come on, Ruth. For the next two hours you can be my wife."

Ruth turns to see Calum Reid standing beside her shoulder, one eyebrow lifted.

"If that's a marriage proposal, then I respectfully decline," she says in what she hopes is a light-hearted tone.

"I need to check out that estate agent in Brixton. You know, the one Erin believes is being used as a meeting place for illegals."

"Right. Very well. I'll accompany you, but I can't be away from the Grid for long. I have too much to do."

"All work and no play, Ruth." Calum grins widely, offering her his arm.

Ruth quite likes Calum, but his permanent state of joviality can be wearing. She hopes he doesn't want to talk to her, because she's in no mood to be listening to him.

Once they are in his car, and on their way he explains how they will pose as a couple who are seeking to rent a flat. He will do the talking, and if the opportunity arises, Ruth will do the snooping. She considers that his plan has absolutely no chance of working, but a few hours away from the Grid might provide her with a fresh perspective on everything.

They have only just turned on to the Brixton Road when Calum says something which shatters Ruth.

"This is the most fun I've had since the day Guy Blasko was shot," he offers cheerily.

"That's not very -"

"Lucky bugger. He's probably sunning himself on a beach in Greece .. or Bali."

"Who is?" Ruth turns to look at him, wondering what and who he's talking about.

"Guy Blasko. Who else? If an escape to the continent is what he gets for being a criminal, then I'm definitely in the wrong job."

"Stop the car," Ruth says sharply. "_Stop the car_."

"There's nowhere here I can -"

"Stop the bloody car, Calum." she repeats, opening the passenger side door.

Calum jams his foot on the brake, while behind him a line of cars stop suddenly, their drivers sounding their horns loudly and with clear irritation. Ruth grabs her bag and stumbles from the car, slamming the door behind her, without explaining her actions to Calum. All she wants is to return to the Grid, but she's on the wrong side of the road for a bus back to central London. She stands at the kerb, waiting for a break in the traffic, but none appears.

Then Calum appears on the pavement beside her. "Get back in the car, Ruth. Our appointment is in twenty minutes."

"Go on your own. I have something more important to do."

"What is it? Can we talk about it?"

"No. We can't."

"Come on, love," a voice says from the bus shelter behind her. "Give `im a chance. `e seems nice, an' `e's got a lovely car. Dresses nice, too."

"See?" Calum says, indicating the elderly woman sitting in the bus shelter.

"Oh, sod off!" Ruth shouts, to Calum, and to the woman observing them. Seeing a vacant taxi slowing down, she raises her hand, and when the taxi stops she climbs into the back seat, closing the door behind her. Sod Calum. Sod the estate agent. Sod everything and everybody. Ruth needs to get to the bottom of this, and she needs to do it today.

* * *

The Grid – Thursday evening, April 14, 2011:

She'd arrived on the Grid to find Harry out, so she waits, and while she waits, she works, barely aware of time passing. By the time Harry returns to his office, Ruth is alone on the Grid floor. Since leaving Calum on the Brixton Road over four hours earlier she has had time to think, and as she does so, much of her anger drains away. All the same, she considers Harry has some explaining to do.

Hearing footsteps Ruth looks up to see Harry approaching, wariness in his eyes. "Can I sit?" he asks, while taking a chair from Dimitri's desk, and rolling it to stop beside her own. Before she has a chance to object he is sitting across the corner of her desk from her.

But she doesn't want to object. She wants answers.

"We need to talk," he says quietly, and Ruth nods.

"Calum told me the truth about Guy Blasko," she says quickly, avoiding Harry's eyes.

"He _what_? Who told him? No, don't tell me. Dimitri?"

"I suspect Dimitri said something, and Calum pumped him for information."

Harry sighs, looking around the Grid, darkened and abandoned. "The fewer people who know the truth about Blasko the better." He turns back to Ruth, and only then does she see how tired he is. "Only Dimitri and I needed to know."

"I take it he's now an asset." Harry nods. "His wife and children?"

"They plan to join him in six months or so, once everyone has forgotten about him. In the meantime they are … in mourning." Again he sighs heavily. "You've been angry with me, and I need to know why."

"First things first," she says abruptly. "The ambulance?"

"One of ours. It was Dimitri's job to call it, to transfer Blasko to a car carrying his luggage, before being driven directly to a private airfield."

"And how did Guy Blasko earn this particular privilege?"

"He knows more about the illegal trafficking of people, vital organs, guns, and drugs than anyone I know, but more importantly he has close connections with both China and Russia, as well as eastern Europe. It's safer for everyone were he to pretend to be dead. Besides, he was looking down the barrel at a lengthy gaol sentence."

Ruth sighs heavily. Ever since Calum had dropped the Blasko bombshell she's suspected as much.

"You must know, Ruth, why I couldn't confide in you about the truth of that meeting." Ruth nods. Of course she knows. She's just annoyed, that's all. "And it's not that I couldn't trust you with that information. It's just that -"

"- you were protecting me."

Harry nods. "And the fewer people who know the truth, the less likely it is that someone will spill the beans to a loved one."

"I have none of those," Ruth says.

"Loved ones?" She nods. "What about your mother?"

"She's still upset with me for faking my death. She's currently refusing to take my calls, unable to recognise the irony."

Harry's lips twist in a half smile. "Surely there's more than just her .. isn't there?"

Ruth turns her head to one side. "Well … maybe there is, but that's still .. not a given."

Harry appears satisfied. "So … why have you been treating me like I have leprosy?" he asks, quickly changing the subject.

"_Leprosy_?"

"I'd been half expecting you to shout, `_Unclean, unclean_,' as I walk by."

Ruth suppresses a giggle, but she can't resist smiling. "I've been … upset with you."

"That much is obvious. Why? What was my misdemeanour this time?"

Harry can be so obtuse, but even he deserves the truth. "I've been particularly upset with you since you left to meet Guy Blasko." Harry nods. She feels him watching her, but she can't meet his eyes. He probably thinks she's bonkers anyway. "I was … sure you were putting yourself in danger … unnecessarily."

"You'd rather I spend my days sitting alone in my office, or in meetings with people I don't trust."

"You make it sound … unreasonable that I actually .." and she can't finish her sentence. She just can't.

"… _care _for me?" he finishes for her, his voice husky with suppressed emotion.

Ruth lifts her eyes to his, to see him leaning towards her, his hand on the desk, the tips of his fingers only millimetres from her own. "It appears that was my … motivation for it, yes," she says quietly. Harry sighs heavily, but his eyes never leave her. Then it dawns on her. "You've known all along … haven't you?"

"I've had an inkling, yes."

"So why didn't you say something? Why didn't you tell me to stop being such a self-righteous prat?"

This time Harry sits back in his chair. "And how would you have taken that?"

He has a point there. "Not well," she says quietly. _Not well_? She would have reacted explosively had he drawn her aside to suggest her behaviour towards him was because she secretly had designs on his body. She would have told him he'd lost his mind, and that she saw a stint in Tring in his future.

All the while he's been watching her, catching every nuance in her expression. "What now?" he asks at last.

He's asking _her_? She can't even determine the difference between attraction and repulsion, ebb and flow, love and hate. "I have no idea," she says at last, tearing her eyes from him to stare into the dark womb of the Grid.

Ruth hears the soft rustle of Harry's clothing, followed by the touch of his fingers on hers as they rest on the desktop. Very slowly she turns to find him watching her. Her response is to grasp his fingers with her own. He then wraps his hand around hers, before caressing her knuckles with his thumb. Over and over his thumb passes back and forth across her knuckles until a rosy warmth flows through her body.

"We can go wherever you like, Ruth."

"How about the moon and the stars?" she suggests lightly.

"I suspect we're already there." His voice is low and smooth as honey, and Ruth smiles into his eyes. _What a cornball_, she thinks.

"But I'll settle for a pub meal," Ruth says aloud. "I'm starving."

"That's good," Harry says, standing and reaching out to take Ruth's hand. "I know a place."

_I'll bet you do. _She nods, unable to speak. As together they cross the Grid floor Ruth grasps his hand tightly while allowing her shoulder to brush against his arm, her concession to intimacy.

As they stop before the doors to the Grid Harry turns to her, placing his hands on her hips, drawing her closer, but not too close."This is not a test run, Ruth," he says gently. "I'm not playing around here … with you .. or with us."

"I know that," she says, "I wouldn't be here with you now if I thought you were."

Harry's eyes hold hers for a long moment before he bends down to very gently place his lips on hers. It is a brief, but tender kiss, and Ruth is determined to remember it always. Their last kiss had been a kiss of goodbye, while this was a kiss of hope, of beginning again.

He leads them through the doorway and to the lifts, where, while waiting for the lift to arrive, he turns to her, "What do you suggest I have Dimitri and Calum do," he asks, "so they'll never again be tempted to share need to know information?"

Ruth ponders for so long that they are inside the lift before she answers him. "Surveillance," she says. "They both hate the boredom of surveillance. Three or four days should do it."

Harry smiles into her eyes. "Brilliant," he says. "Consider it done."


End file.
